


Short Enough

by Ishipit246



Category: Assassination Classroom
Genre: Gen, Implied Transphobia, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Post-Canon, implied trans nagisa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:02:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28751103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ishipit246/pseuds/Ishipit246
Summary: It's Nagisa's 18th birthday, and time for him to finally be himself.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 44





	Short Enough

Nagisa never got a haircut by himself before. Every trip to the hair salon was always a painfully controlled experience, Mum insisting he leave his hair long, only going to the hair salon to neaten his hair, or rebond it. It was a pain to turn his grimace into a polite smile, and to stare at his own unfamiliar reflection.

18 whole years of begging and pleading to be allowed to pick his own hairstyle, to choose his own appearance, to  _ stop  _ becoming a doll for Mum to dress as she pleased, only to be scolded or lectured or  _ hit _ or worse of all, guilt tripped, led to this moment. He had spent the previous day scouring the internet for hairstyles. Bowl cuts, mohawks, flat tops, they all covered his search history, which he later guiltily cleared with the fear of Mum somehow finding it.

Nagisa stepped into the crowded shopping mall, the familiar cool air somehow both warm and anxiety inducing. On one hand, this was where he and Karma and Kaede would all hang out, drinking bubble tea and joking around. Then again, it was also the place where Mum would drag him to, for "mother child (she refused to call him her son) bonding", where she would bring him to shop after shop, making him try out dresses and skirts and other feminine articles of clothing that made him feel nauseous and create a heavy rock that lay in his stomach he could never get rid of. 

Opening his wallet, Nagisa smiled at the number of notes in it. At least all that tutoring paid off. It was his birthday after all, he should treat himself. And so he stepped into the clothing store he always stares enviously at, the one decked out in fashionable button ups and polo shirts and all sorts of different pants. And though Mum's disapproving gaze lingered through his mind, he selected a nice dark blue button up shirt and black skinny jeans. He wasn't adventurous enough to buy them with rips. Slipping them on in the toilet, the smooth new fabric was the most comfortable thing he'd ever worn. It was his first step into becoming his own person. They made him look taller, and even if they didn't, he felt taller. More in control.

Nagisa looked at his pigtails with a mix of distaste and affection. On one hand, they were something Kaede had suggested, and they made his hair feel shorter and free. And besides, Mum hated the fact he didn't let his "pretty" long hair down. However, the only reason he had to have the pigtails in the first place was because he had long hair. He shook all the thoughts out and left the toilet.

Next stop was the hair salon. Nagisa stepped in, and was accosted by the hairdresser. "Are you here for a haircut? Or dyeing?"

He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "Ah, I'm here for a haircut." 

After being hurried into a seat, he fished his pocket for his phone. "I'd like this hairstyle please." On his phone was a picture of Karma from junior high school. During lessons, back when he was 14, he used to stare at the other boys in class, jealous of their freedom to choose how they dress, how they present themselves, while he was stuck there being controlled in every possible aspect.

“Are you sure you want to cut off so much?” The hairdresser asked. “It probably took a really long time to grow out all your hair.”

Nagisa knew he had never wanted something more in his entire life, but he forced that down and gave the hairdresser a polite smile. “Yes, I’m sure. Thank you.”

He was sat down, and the hairdresser put the gown on him. The silkiness of it brushed against his skin and he had to force himself not to cringe. 

_ Snip. Snip. Snip. _

The sound wasn't particularly loud, and with every cut came the impending realisation and comprehension that he was finally going to be free, to be independent. To be himself.

_ Snip. Snip. Snip. _

Nagisa could recall all those painful memories, memories of Mum gripping his shoulder so tight, he thought it would leave a permanent indent there, and her smiling at the hairdresser with a sort of politeness he figure  _ must  _ be fake, because if Mum could smile at a complete stranger with absolute sincerity, and she would only scoff at who he truly was, where did that leave him? 

And then he'd be brought down to a chair, and then his pigtails would be undone (if he was allowed to keep them on for the day), and he'd watch his long blue hair flow all the way past his shoulders, far longer than he ever wants his hair to be. 

"How much would you like to cut it?" The hairdresser would ask and Mum would answer with a polite smile that if Nagisa looked in the mirror, looked far too much like his own.

Mum would then place her fingers against his hair to indicate how much the hairdresser was to cut. "Not much, around here. Just a trim." It was never short enough.

_ Snip. Snip. Snip.  _

Glancing at the floor, he could see the amount of hair the hairdresser had cut. Mum definitely would not be happy with this. 

Nagisa looked into the mirror, and watched silently as the hairdresser somehow transformed him. When she was done, he couldn't contain his smile.

It was short enough.


End file.
